Missing Friend
by Marblez
Summary: VERY DARK FIC! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Flack goes missing and then the team discover a slave ring, young men that have gone missing being used as anything their 'master' wants. They thought that was bad enough, then they link Flack to it, as a victim. SLASH
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer; I don't own, I'm merely borrowing them.

WARNING: Slavery, Rape, Slash, Angst…not a fic for the faint of heart. And Flack abuse. Sorry people. The fic idea just came to me and wouldn't leave me alone. You no likey the sound of it, you no ready. You have been sufficiently warned.

Missing Friend.

Chapter One,

The first day Flack wasn't at the scene they'd assumed he was ill, that he had called in sick. The second the same, probably a bad bug. By the third they were puzzled why none of the other policemen talked about Flack, none of them telling the investigators what was wrong with their friend. Then the fourth day past. Then the fifth and sixth. And then finally a week after Flack had disappeared they finally got word as to what was wrong. Flack had in all deadly seriousness disappeared.

Failing to report to work that first day had got him on an immediate charge but it was only on the third day that the police department sent someone to his apartment to find it locked and empty. They ran an investigation in case of a kidnapping but on finding no clues reported Detective Don Flack as AWOL. In fact the words used in the verbal report to Mac and his team were 'Looks like he's run, had a few cases like this over the years. They take roll backs or find some money from somewhere in the force and when there's a chance they're gonna be caught they run. Its probably what happened.' The CSI team would never **ever **believe that and despite orders to the contrary began their own investigation.

"It looks like he didn't make it back to the apartment after work, the only things missing are his badge, his gun, his wallet and his cell. Everything else looks like it's here, nothings damaged and the cops said that the door was locked," Lindsay said quietly as she and Danny looked around the neat and tidy rooms.

"Did the cops check the surroundings? The alley down the right of the building?" Danny asked and Lindsay looked at the file held in her hand, they'd brought what information the cops had determined with them to compare anything they found with.

"Yes but they say that they found nothing to indicate anything out of the ordinary or anything to do with Detective Flack," Lindsay read from the page. "Are we going to give it a go? We won't be able to fence it off or stop members of the public walking through as it's not really a crime scene."

"To me this is a crime scene," Danny snapped, "And it should be to you too. Flack's our friend and they're accusing him of stealing money and running with him. I want tape up, you can do the job of keeping people away while I have a look around outside." They went down into the street and Lindsay set up the tape, telling people to stay away for their quick investigation. Danny scoured the sidewalk and the alleys on either side of the apartment building. Nothing seemed to strike him as out of the ordinary until he found a series of scratches down the wall, as if made by fingers. There was a possibility it could have to do with Flack so he studied it closely, photographing it and taking scrapings from it.

He was putting the scraping in the brown envelope when he noticed the leather corner poking out of the dirt at his feet. Crouching with a frown he moved the crap and dirt out of the way, almost jumping in shock as he uncovered the hastily buried police badge. Flacks police badge. And underneath it his wallet. And next to his buried phone. The gun was no where to be seen.

"How could the stupid cops not have seen this?" Danny asked. There was a circular imprint around them, almost like a target ring. Looking to the left Danny noticed the two steel bins, all but empty. Lifting one he held it over the things, "They were under the bin but the dustbin men came…"

"Find anything?" Lindsay called out.

"Plenty, I'll tag it, bag it and then let's get back to the lab. We might be able to find out who's got Flack after all," Danny said lifting up his camera.

"So he was definitely kidnapped?" Lindsay asked, her voice slightly hopeful.

"Yes."

The two worked solidly for an hour on the things, finding prints and blood on all three. Flack's blood and prints but also two un-known prints, they didn't even come up in CODIS. But it did prove that Flack hadn't run…or at least that he hadn't run willingly. Unfortunately they had no clues as to who had taken him other than the unknown prints, unknown prints that would stay unknown for the next six months by which time even they had to admit that the possibility of finding Flack alive was minimal.

///\\\

He couldn't remember much after the blow to the back of his head, a blow he received as he walked past the alley by his house. Vaguely he recalled being pulled into that alley, remembered rough hands emptying his pockets. Then he was struck around the face again and his next memory was waking up in the stinking basement, his hands bound in front of him with a chain connecting them to the wall. The sound of other peoples laboured breaths told him that he wasn't alone in the room but it was too dark to see how many other poor people were there. From somewhere outside of the room he heard angry voices,

"You got a fucking copper? Are you mad?!? They'll be all over this in days!"

"We hid his stuff and left no clues Maggie, honest!"

"But still, one of their own? How could you be so stupid?"

"Have you even looked at him?"

"Yes he's the best looking yet and once trained I'm sure he'll fetch a good price but it's too dangerous!"

"So ship him out with the others tomorrow! Train him in the country house and bring him back when it's all blown over. Think of the money Maggie, killing him and dumping him would be a waste and far riskier!"

"Alright, put him in with the others for tomorrows transfer. But so help me if the cops come snooping around here because of this I'll shoot your brains out!"

"They won't Maggie! They'll be even more clueless than ever!"

"They'd better be, now get down there and sort out the ones we're keeping form the ones going and get them in the truck!"

The door opened and the light was switched on. It stung his eyes but Flack kept them open, watching the two strong men in black descending the stairs with an old woman following them. No longer in darkness he could now see the other captives, eleven men covered in bruises like he himself undoubtedly was. As he watched the woman pointed at one and his chain was released before the two men dragged him roughly up the stairs and out of the door.

"You are a handsome one for a cop," she was standing before him as she spoke and he glared up at her.

"What do you want with me? With all of these men?" he asked angrily.

"I thought you cops were meant to be smart, handsome young men sell well on the black market. White slavery isn't extinct, especially not when they are used as sexual slaves. As you will be," she laughed down at him. He growled and struggled to his feet, pulling at the chain as far as it would go. "I've been doing this for years, you will not be that last but you may be the most profitable with those stunning eyes."

"You're men were wrong you know! You'll be found out! They haven't just kidnapped a cop for your disgusting business, they've kidnapped a homicide detective whose friends are the best crime scene team in New York! They will find a clue you're men don't think they've left and they will never stop looking into this, into my disappearance! They will bring you down and I will be there to watch and laugh!" Flack shouted at her, the other men looking on wide eyed as he pulled furiously at the chain holding him just the foot away from her. Her face turned dark and she struck him around the face as her two thugs re-entered the room.

"Put him in the mask and pull it tight!" she screeched at them.

"You'll be punished for all you've done!" Flack fought with the two men for all he was worth but unfortunately he was overpowered by tha larger men and they succeeded in putting the contraption onto his face. It covered his face from below his eyes with a hole at the base of his nose to breathe through, it fastened tightly at the back of his neck with a buckle but another strap going over his head buckled under his chin, locking his jaw shut. His beautiful eyes glared at the three over the top of it, a glare of pure hatred.

"Get him in the truck, I don't want to see him again before he's broken and well trained!" the old woman snapped. Dons upper arms were grabbed forcefully from behind as his chain was released. He kicked and fought when they started to force him towards the stairs. A blow to the back of his head with some hard object dazed him and he went limp in their arms, he couldn't stop them dragging him up the stairs and outside through a fire exit. He was thrown in the back of a dirty old van, his bound hands once again being chained to one of the sides.

Three more of the men were similarly dragged in and chained up, all of them having cloth gags placed around their mouths to stop them screaming out for help. Darkness surrounded them when the door was slammed shut, a padlock loudly being put into the place, then another. Finally another was put on the sliding door at the side. No escape from the van for those locked inside even if they managed to free their hands from the painful chains.

The engine started with a loud rumble and the driver revved it up hard before they jerked forwards, the van taking an immediate right and causing Don's weight to rely entirely on the chain. One of the other men began to cry quietly as the van sped along the New York city roads, or rather went as fast as you could in the biggest traffic jam in the world. It was hard to stay awake in the darkness and after an hour of nothing but frightful whimpers and tears Don felt himself slowly slipping off to sleep. When he woke there was silence in the van, his fellow captives were now asleep as he had been. There were less corners taken and less stops which suggested they'd left the city behind. And that worried him, if he was out of New York he was out of Mac's territory…and out of his reach.

///\\\

The van finally stopped and the back doors were thrown open, the lack of light telling Don immediately that enough time had passed for it to be night. Each prisoner was dragged out and into a building the van had pulled up outside of. When it was Don's turn he quickly took in his surroundings, lots of grass, trees around the old rickety looking farm house. A barn out to the back by the looks of it and no one else for miles and miles. He was harshly dragged inside the front door and into the first room on the right.

In years past it had probably been a little old ladies front room with flowery wall paper and white curtains but it was now horribly bare, dirt lining the walls. Furniture was non existent but there were plenty of manacles on the walls and the floor, even a couple on the ceiling. Don himself was put into the corner by the boarded up window, his head being slammed against the wall to stop his struggles and allow the men to put the manacles on him. He got a kick to the gut for his troubles as well and he couldn't even gasp out from the pain.

A tall man dressed in a long black trench coat entered the room with a look on his face that reminded Don of someone at the market choosing which vegetables would be suitable for their meal. He walked calmly around the room, actually turning some of the other men's heads this way and that to look closer at them. When it came to Don's turn the man frowned as the detective glared up at him, then leaned it closer to peer into his eyes.

"This one has beautiful eyes. And he's feisty too, if he keeps that after training he'll make a good profit," the man spoke in a low voice. "I'll train him and those three over there myself. The others you two can see to and then take back to the Mother. Take mine upstairs to the room. And leave the mask on, if the eyes are anything to go by he'll have a few angry words to say and I don't wanna here 'em." The two thugs that had brought them here obeyed him with leering grins.

Being taken upstairs was painful, the men were pulled up by their hair alone and Don was surprised that he wasn't bold by the time they reached the room intended to hold them for whatever this sicko wanted them for. Don expected the worst, he'd seen so many cases in his time that told him what to expect. It sickened him to think however that there was an actual slave market like this running in America right under their noses. He hoped and hoped that Mac and the others found something, anything to help them save these men as well as himself.

The room had an old bed in the centre of it and the four of them were handcuffed to each of it's corners, the rusty metal frame of it only a little bit dirtier than the handcuffs themselves which had definitely seen better days. The sheets on the bed were old and stained with dried blood and God only knew what else. No light was let through the boarded up window, the only thing that lit the dingy room was the yellowed bulb hanging from the greying ceiling.

"This is going to be your home from now on," the man in the trench coat sneered as he entered, shutting the door firmly behind him he locked it with a key that slipped into his coat pocket. "So get used to it. Now, time for my fun to begin."

Don definitely did not like the sound of that.

A/N I did warn you this is a disturbing fic but if you feel the need to flame go ahead.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer; I don't own, I'm merely borrowing them.

WARNING: Slavery, Rape, Angst…not a fic for the faint of heart. And Flack abuse. Sorry people. You no likey the sound of it, you no ready. You have been sufficiently warned.

Missing Friend.

Chapter Two, 

///SIX MONTHES LATER\\\ 

Mac Taylor was not a man to be easily shocked by things but when he stepped through the door to the houses basement even his Marine trained stomach felt queasy. A neighbour had reported hearing screams from the houses basement when she was in the garden, they had continued for an hour before it went silent. The police had arrived at the house within the hour, they had searched the house and found it empty. Then they had gone down into the basement and immediately called for both the CSI's and medical assistance.

The house itself was nothing out of the ordinary, it seemed both lived in and neat. It was just lacking the people living there and according to the paperwork the house was rented by a Mr J. Smith. Most likely and rather obviously an alias. However the basement was a completely different ceremony. It was a torture room, pure and simple. One that would be at home in Hell's Kitchen. The walls were stained with blood layered over and over again, the floor was thick with dirt, blood and who knew what else. And around the wall, chained to it in various ways, were six men. Two of which were already rotting corpses. Each man was naked and as thin as a rake, reminding Mac of the photo's he'd studied as a boy of the Holocaust victim's.

Lindsay had rushed out of the room when Mac switched the top light on, the poor men covering their eyes and huddling close to the dirty walls in fear. She'd been sick on the steps into the house but to her credit returned afterwards, ready to work. Yes she was pale and slightly shaking as she pulled on her gloves but she still came back to work. Danny was methodically taking photo's of the poor men still alive before the medics could take them out to the waiting ambulances.

"How could anyone…" Lindsay asked weakly. "Who could…"

"That's what we've got to find out," Mac said, his voice calm. "I want every want every fingerprint in this room and the rest of the house lifted. I want to know how many previous victims we're dealing with and who the disgusting people that did this are." He looked around the room, his face a picture of anger and anguish, "This isn't a hurried thing, this has evidence that this has been going on for some time."

Danny beckoned to the door and the paramedic's rushed in carrying stretchers down the stairs. The CSI team kept out of the way of them but watched them closely to make sure that they didn't damage any evidence. Mac told them to wear gloves at all time and to, if possible keep the shackles whole when they removed them at the hospital. Cutting the chains to free the men was perfectly acceptable. It was eerily silent when they had been rushed out to the ambulances.

"Mac, there's a pile of clothes and shoes in this corner by one of the bodies, its big pile Mac," Danny said quietly as the three went back to their work. Mac walked up behind Danny who was crouched looking under the steps from the door and the corner behind them, he was right. There was a very large pile of clothes and shoes all thrown carefully under there, spilling out from under all the way round. In the corner it was piled almost as high as the fifth step.

Together they began to photograph each layer before bagging each item as carefully as they could. All too soon they were out of evidence bags from all three kits and Lindsay had to go and get more from the truck. They found clothes of fashions long since over, they found some that were tattered and ripped and then Danny made a discovery, a bus timetable from 1995. Shortly after that Mac found a tattered and stained train ticket from 1988.

"Danny this has been going on for too long," Mac said quietly, sadly, "How many people have fallen victim to this-whatever this is?"

"We'll stop him Mac, we always do," Danny answered quietly, standing behind the crouched figure of his boyfriend. Gently Danny squeezed Mac's shoulders and the old man leaned his head back against Danny's well toned stomach. It was a little known fact, mainly because the two were very good at hiding it, that the two had been lovers for little over four months. Their relationship had begun in a pure need of comfort after their search for Flack was halted from above, when they'd had to finally give up on their friend. Seeing this place made Mac hope deep down inside that nothing like this had happened to their fun loving detective friend.

"I brought as much as I could manage," Lindsay's voice interrupted them. The two men moved apart as calmly as if they had simply been talking about the case not seeking comfort, "There are a few more left over if this isn't enough."

"Thanks Lindsay, now lets get to work. These people and those before them need justice and freedom."

///\\\

It was dark when he was dragged from the boot of the car by the back of his neck, unable to get his legs to work his feet and shins dragged along the tarmac driveway, banging on the steps up into the house. His hands weakly grabbed the mans arms, trying to get him to stop hurting his neck. The carpet burned his legs and then they were going down more steps into the houses basement. At the bottom of the steps was a wire gate, padlocked twice. Somehow the man unlocked it without ever letting him go and he was dragged the final leg of the journey into the dimly lit room.

He was so much thinner than he used to be now and what was left of his clothes were hanging off him. They were gone quickly though, the man ripping them from his body so that the only thing remaining on his body was the leather mask he still wore keeping his mouth shut. The man who had bought him for what sounded to be a rather large sum of money grabbed something from on of the shelves running along the walls and snapped it around Flack's neck. It was a metal collar attached to a chain which was bolted to the base of the wall.

"Just to make sure you don't run my little pet," the man said softly, stroking his hair as you would a dogs. "I shall be back down later, we'll play a game." Then the man left. He pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the pain and walked as far as his chain would let him, it was pulled taught just before he could reach the two padlocks. Going the other way he could make it through the door on the other room, it turned out to be a bathroom. Compared to where he'd come from this place was somewhat decent, the man…his _owner _was not.

///\\\

The computer had been going non-stop trying to identify the hundreds of prints that Lindsay alone had lifted from the room and from the house. First she'd set it to match those that were the same, three sets of prints were consistent all around the house. The kidnappers. Then the search on CODIS and any other useful fingerprinting database began. Unfortunately it was going to take a very long time.

"Any matches yet?" Mac asked as he entered the computer room.

"Two matches so far, both from missing persons, both security guards from a club that went missing a little under a year ago. Mark Langdon and Jeremy Cole, twenty five and nineteen at the time of their disappearances. Their prints were at two of the empty manacles though, they're not any of those found," Lindsay explained. "The survivors and the bodies by the way are all John Does so far, they're too traumatised to do much more than whimper. I had to take their prints earlier."

"Keep the search going Lindsay and contact me if you get any more hits, good or bad. I want to know the victims and the kidnappers," Mac ordered, his voice as cold as ice. God he was worried.

"Of course Mac, I'll keep you updated on everything." The ex-marine walked into the other lab where Danny was working on some of the physical evidence. Going close behind him he hugged him briefly before moving away, not wanting to arouse suspicion. Danny turned and smiled at him briefly before looking back at his work.

"How it going?" Mac asked softly.

"Going through all of this is making me feel sick Mac, and this is me we're talking about. Do you know how many different traces of semen I've found? It's everywhere. Some is fresh, some is so old it could have been there for years," Danny said, his tone of voice only emphasising how disgusted he felt. "This-This is a sex slave thing we've found Mac and it makes me feel sick." This time Mac didn't care who saw, he pulled Danny into his arms and forced him to press his face into Mac's neck, pressing a light kiss to the younger mans head.

"We'll catch them Danny, you know we will, we always do," Mac said not letting his grip slacken one bit. "And we will not be merciful when we do find them."

"It's been going on under our noses for so long Mac, it's possible that most of the unexplained disappearances in New York for the last two fucking decades are connected to this!" Danny shouted, pulling back again. "What if-What if Flacks…" Danny bit his lip and forcefully wiped his eyes, probably rubbing the top layer of skin off his cheek.

"Don't think about that Danny," Mac ordered softly, "If Flack had been taken by them he'd have fought back hard, left a clue for us to find. Have you found anything that looks like clues in your evidence? No more than usual right? That gives us room to hope that he wasn't taken to that place but we'll know for certain once all the prints and DNA samples are matched up."

"Yeah…you're right. I just hope that this is the only place like this," Danny said quietly, moving back to the jacket he was examining.

"You're thinking too much Danny," Mac said with a sad smile. "So run me through what you've got so far from all thi-" Mac was cut off as Lindsay ran into the room, a terrified expression on her pretty face as she held a printed out sheet in her shaking hand. "Lindsay?"

"It's Flack!"

A/N There we go, chapter two. R&R if you wanna.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer; I don't own, I'm merely borrowing them.

WARNING: Slavery, Rape, Angst…not a fic for the faint of heart. And Flack abuse. Sorry people. You no likey the sound of it, you no ready. You have been sufficiently warned.

Missing Friend.

Chapter Three,

Their discovery was only the beginning of two long years of hard work, two years of searching, of running tests, of questioning people. But two years ultimately getting no closer to finding those behind it and those trapped in it. However those they rescued that day were helped, they recovered slowly in hospital and as they regained their health they regained their identities. They were reunited with their families. And they told their stories,

_"I was on my way home, heading for the subway. Someone hit me on the back of my head. Everything went fuzzy and I was-I was put in the boot of a car. I can't remember much after that, I think I fell asleep. I-I remember being dragged down into a basement. __**That**__ basement. They-They took some of the people away, the ones who'd been there longer and then…then they did things. Horrible things. Day and night disappeared, we slept between __**them **__and their fun. I don't know how long I was down there before it all changed. A new man came in one day, shouting at them. Saying that they were moving to a new playground. Then they left. They left us there to die." _

As the years went on more and more of the hundreds of prints Lindsay had pulled were matched to people in the missing persons data-base. But still there were many unknown prints, mostly the ones degraded by time. So the case was forgotten, buried away in files by everyone except the people that had known Flack. They carried on, following every lead that they ever found, reading every missing persons file, checking every print, every piece of trace...but it led to nothing.

All they could do for their friend was correct his record;

Don Flack - Missing since 02/04/08.

/*/*/*\*\*\

Something was happening in the house above him, a party of some kind with lots of people moving back and forth, their footsteps echoing around the basement he was still kept in after two long years. He sat on his bed, hugging his knees to his chest and waiting for the nightly visit from his master.

The door to the basement opened and shut softly, footsteps on the wooden stairs echoing louder than the ones from the house. He lifted his head up and was surprised to find himself facing not his master but his master's son. He'd never actually met the fourteen-year-old boy but his master had proudly shown him photographs of the boy who looked nothing like him, told him all about his sons high school life and his great achievements on the football field.

"Hello?" the teenager called out, "I've…I've brought you some food."

Food. He only got food when his master was in a good mood. And never had he received food from someone other than his master. Paul, that was the name of his masters son, awkwardly unlocked the gate with an unfamiliar set of keys and then walked into the room carrying a plastic plate covered in delicious looking buffet food.

What was going on?

"It's just some of the food from the party. I-I heard father joking with his friends that he hadn't fed you since Monday and…and I felt sick at the thought of eating when you were being starved," Paul said softly as he put the plate down beside his hand as it rested beside him on the bed. "Now I'll take the mask off so you can eat but you've got to be quiet, if dad finds out I've been down here and done this he'll beat me black and blue."

The teenager used two more keys on the bunch to unlock the padlocks being his head, keeping him from taking the mask off himself. When he was finally free of the mask he couldn't stop himself rubbing at his jaw for a moment before he caught himself and lowered is dropped his hand into his lap. The plate was handed to him and without pausing for thought he grabbed the first thing he saw, a sausage roll, and shoved it into his mouth, chewing awkwardly with his stiff jaw before swallowing.

"Wh-What's your name?" Paul asked softly as he sat beside him. The boy was watching him eat but was being very careful not to move too close, to invade his personal space too much. He was unused to someone worrying about his 'personal space' - slaves didn't have 'personal space'.

"I don't have a name," he said softly, his voice scratchy from lack of use.

"But…you must have a name. Everyone has a name," Paul protested.

"I had a name," he admitted softly, his mouth full with one of the mini cheese sandwiches, "Before…" It felt good to talk to someone and to eat real food. He was sure his master would punish him for this later but he had learned to take what he could when he could and suffer the consequences later, waiting for his master to show pity on him would end up with his death.

"What was it?" Paul asked.

"Don," he mumbled, picking up the other mini cheese sandwich, "Don Flack."

"Where are you from?" Paul asked as the other cheese sandwich disappeared in the same way of the first. "Where did you live before?"

"New York," he answered softly, sadly, remembering the old days when he was a free man…when he was a…"I was a cop, a detective."

"A cop!" Paul gasped in shock, "You were a cop? But then how…how did you get caught up in all this?" Don swallowed the last bit of sandwich with a little difficulty, wishing their was something to wash it down with, some water maybe.

"I have asked myself that many times," he admitted sadly, playing with the now empty plate in his lap, "And I've come to the conclusion that I was having an off day when I was captured, I'm sure if I'd been more observant or fought harder I'd have escaped but…I wasn't and I didn't."

"I'm sure that's not true. You…you didn't get into this willingly did you?" Paul asked anxiously, standing up so that he could crouch in front of Don's naked form. He wasn't allowed clothes but the teenager had barely glanced at his exposed self for the whole time he'd been there. It was nice not to be stared at.

"No!" he gasped, shaking his head, "I was attacked…taken against my will…drugged…trained…I tried…I tried to get away but…I…I…"

"I thought…I mean my dad…he told me that you **liked** what he was doing," Paul admitted softly, "He told us that…that you **enjoy** it and came to him willingly."

"Never!" Don screamed, "I would never…"

"What the fuck?!?" the angry voice of his master made him jumped out of his skin and he pushed the plate into Paul's hands, frantically trying to put the mask back on himself. Paul was awkwardly helping him when his master thundered down the stairs and into his cage. "What the fuck are you doing? Have you…have you fed it?!"

"Yes," Paul admitted.

"Fucking Hell!" his master screamed and before anything else could be said he struck his son around the face with enough force to send him crashing into the wall. "You little bastard! Poking your nose into my things! Playing with my toys! Were you hoping to get a go with him? Were you?!"

"No dad!" Paul screamed, cowering against the wall as his father leaned over him threateningly, "I…I just…you lied!" he suddenly shouted, glaring up at him, "You said he was here willingly but he said he was kidnapped!"

"You stupid fucking…" his master trailed off into curses as he punched and kicked his poor son until the boy was unconscious, lying in a bloody heap at the foot of the wall. "And you…" he turned his mad eyes on his slave.

With the mask back in place, but not locked, all he could do was shake his head pleadingly as his master began to beat him as viscously as he had beaten his son, punishing him for breaking the rules. Eventually his master stopped and he lolled about lifelessly but still conscious as his master used his body for his own sick pleasures. Done with his punishment he locked the padlocks on the mask and then walked to the gate, pulling it shut after him.

"He can stay with you for a few days," he sneered looking down at his son with contempt, "As punishment for his stupid actions." And then he was gone, storming up the stairs to wash the blood of his hands and return to the party, already conjuring up an excuse for his son's absence, one that would last for a few days. Camping with friends would do.

Left alone with the unconscious boy he crawled from the bed, the chain hanging from his collar feeling even heavier than normal, and crawled weakly to Paul's unconscious form. Shaking him once, twice, got no response. The boy was out cold. Groaning from his own pain he somehow managed to get the boy on his bed and tucked under the thin sheet. Then, no longer able to fight the approaching darkness, he slid to the ground unconscious.

A/N OMG! How long has it been since I lasted updated this story?!?!? LOL. Hope you enjoyed it and hopefully I might be able to update a bit quicker next time. LOL.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer; I don't own, I'm merely borrowing them.

WARNING: Slavery, Rape, Angst…not a fic for the faint of heart. And Flack abuse. Sorry people. You no likey the sound of it, you no ready. You have been sufficiently warned.

Missing Friend.

Chapter Four.

~ * ~ ONE YEAR LATER ~ * ~

"See you later, girls!" she cried happily to her three best friends, blowing them all a kiss as she hopped out of Courtney's divine convertible. It was a gorgeous hot pink colour and she'd got it from her daddy for her sweet sixteenth.

Courtney was so lucky!

She waved them off before turning and walking away from the amazing house that…wasn't hers. Oh her friends thought it was hers, just like they thought she was rich and that her designer gear was genuine. But then if they didn't think that she wouldn't be on the cheerleading squad and she wouldn't have any friends.

She'd be a looser…and she didn't want to be a looser!

Once the car was out of sight she turned and left the nicer part of town, walking swiftly with her head down until she arrived at her so-so house in a reasonably cheap neighbourhood. As per usual it took her nearly an hour; she was always reluctant to go home, preferring to dawdle and to imagine that she really was the girl she pretended to be.

"I'm home!" she called out as the front door swung shut behind her. Yuck! What a mess! It looked like…well…there weren't the words to describe the state her house was in. "Mum! I'm home!"

No answer.

Heading into the messy kitchen she saw a post-it note stuck to the microwave, covered with her mother's messy handwriting;

Millie. Gone out with Matt.

_ Dinners in the microwave for you and your dad. _

_ Do the dishwasher and put the washing on. _

_ Mum. _

"Typical," she muttered, throwing the note in the bin. Her mum was always doing things like this, leaving notes and jobs for her to do about the house while she went out with her boyfriend, Matt. Yeah, her mum had a boyfriend who was half her age…and her dad knew all about him and didn't care! Then again she was surprised he had even found out in the first place, he all but lived in the basement these days! No one else was allowed down there now; it was his 'private place'.

Her family was so messed up.

Only she and her older brother Paul had been anywhere near normal and now that he had disappeared to University she was all alone, the solitary voice of sanity.

Going to the CD player in the messy kitchen she put on one of the 'Hit's For Housework' CD's she'd given her mother for Mother's Day (a subtle hint asking her to actually do some for once) and began to tidy up, dancing as she went. Housework wasn't really that hard, she didn't know why her mother made such a fuss about it all the time. In less than an hour the kitchen was done and she switched off the music, heading up to her room…her sanctuary.

No one but she was allowed in her room.

She was just passing the door under the stairs that led down into her dad's basement when she heard someone sobbing, deep, heartbroken sobs.

"Huh?" she asked softly, looking around her for the source of the sobbing. "Mum?" Had her mum come home early after a fight with Matt? That had happened before but…no, that wasn't her mother's voice. "Maybe it's the TV," she mumbled to herself, thinking that maybe her mum had left the TV on when she'd gone out and she just hadn't noticed until now…but the TV was most definitely off when she checked in the front room.

And yet the sobbing continued…but…wait a second? It was loudest when she stood next to the door leading down the basement. That…didn't make sense. Unless it was her dad down there…sobbing…

"Dad?" she called out, resting her hand on the door handle. "Dad, is that you? Are you…are you ok down there?"

When the sobbing continued she turned the handle and pushed open the door. Ew! What a stench! The sobbing was louder and filled with worry she went to walk down the stairs…only to falter and stop.

The last time she'd tried going into the basement her dad had freaked, calling her all kinds of hurtful things and even smashing a vase of flowers on the wall by her head. He didn't allow anyone to go down into his 'private place'.

But what if he'd hurt himself?

Wouldn't he be more angry with her if she didn't go down to help him?

"Dad? Hello? Are you…are you ok down there?" she called out once more, frowning as the sobbing continued. Strange, hearing it so clearly now she could tell it was male but…well, it didn't sound anything like her dad at all.

What should she do?

Trembling she turned away from the open door and saw the baseball bat her dad kept by the front door in case someone ever tried anything. Snatching it up in her hands she slowly made her way down into the basement, holding it out before her, ready to strike out at anyone who attacked her…

Yeah, she'd seen too many movies. It probably didn't help that the dim light flickered just like always did in those horror films, scaring her even more.

"H-Hello? This…this isn't funny you know…" she mumbled as she descended slowly. Maybe it was Paul, back from University for whatever reason and trying to scare her by playing a horrible trick on her. "If this is a joke I swear I'll…"

Her voice trailed off in shock as she reached the foot of the stairs, the baseball bat clanging against the metal gate stopping her from going any further as she stared in complete shock at the sight before her.

Paul!

It was her brother but…but he wasn't there to play a joke on her…he…he…

"Oh-My-God!" she gasped in shock as she took in the sight of her older brother gagged and bound to the metal frame of the bed on the other side of the dark room. He was covered in cuts and bruises and it was him…he own brother…that was the source of the horrible sobs…"Paul?!?"

The bat dropped from her hands, hitting the ground with another loud clang, barely missing her feet. She barely even noticed as she pulled at the gate, trying to open it…but it was very firmly locked.

"Paul…what…" she trailed off as movement inside the room startled her, another man sitting up from where he had been lying on the bed beside Paul. He wasn't bound like her brother, instead a long chain connected the metal collar he wore to the wall. And he wore a mask, a horrible mask that left only his eyes visible.

She fell backwards in fear as the man rushed across to the gate, his hands clutching at the bars as the chain was pulled tight. He reached through the bars, his fingertips touching her knee as she began to sob hysterically.

What was going on?!?

What was this?!?

Who had done this?!?

What…what had happened to her brother and this man?!?

A hand on her ankle made her jump and she looked down to see the man gently rubbing her shin, trying to calm her down and help her to get control of herself, to end her hysterics. Well…they didn't end but she did calm down enough to ask her questions out loud,

"What…what has…what's happened to you? Who…who did this to you?" she asked, floods of tears falling down her pale cheeks. Paul sobbed even harder from the bed, pulling at the ropes binding him in place. Oh God…he was only wearing his boxers…blood stained boxers! And…and the other man was dressed the same… "Oh-My-God…what…why…who…"

And suddenly it hit her.

"Dad…" she breathed in shocked realisation. This was her fathers 'private place'…he was the only one allowed down her and that meant…that meant… "Dad did this?! P-Paul? Did…did Dad do…this?"

Her brother let out a choked sob as he nodded.

"Oh-My-God…Oh-My-God…Oh-My-God…" she began to mumbled, even more hysterical than before. "What…what the fuck?!? Oh-My-God…why…why would he do this…what…what has he done…Oh-My-God…"

The gentle hand tugged at her ankle and she looked at the masked man, his piercing blue eyes looking at her pleadingly as he pointed down at the ground. She looked down as his hand smoothed out the layer of dirt on the ground and his fingertip began to trace out letters…words…

_PLEASE YOU HAVE TO HELP US_

_ PLEASE TELL SOMEONE_

"I can't…" she mumbled instantly. If her dad could do this then…then what would he do to her if she reported this…he'd kill her! Oh God…she didn't know her father at all. She'd though he was weird not…not a monster who kept a man and her brother beaten and bound and…and who knew what else in their basement!

_PLEASE_

"He'll…he'll kill me…" she trembled violently. The man wiped away his previous words so that he could write even more as quickly as he could manage.

_GO TO THE COPS THEY'LL PROTECT YOU_

"No…no…he'll…he'll…" she mumbled, shaking her head from side to side.

_PLEASE_

_ I WAS A COP BEFORE THIS_

"You…you were a cop?" she asked softly, wiping at her wet cheeks with her hands as she scooted forward onto her knees. How could a cop have ended up…well…here? "But…how…"

_ ASK FOR MAC TAYLOR OR STELLA BONASERA_

_ THEY WERE MY FRIENDS_

_ THEY'LL KEEP YOU SAFE_

_ PLEASE_

YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN HELP US

"O-Ok…" she found herself mumbling, "I'll…Ill go…"

How could she not help them?

How could she not help her brother?!

She just hoped he was right…that they could and would keep her safe…

_THANK YOU_

"I'll…I'll just…go…go and…Oh-My-God…" she mumbled, pulling herself back to her feet and backing away until she hit the wall. Her gaze shifted from the man with blue eyes who stared up at her thankfully to her brother, still sobbing on the bed. "Paul…P-Paul…I'm…I'm gonna help you…I…I promise…"

And then, after a few moments of staring in horror at the nightmare in her basement she turned and started running…up the stairs…out of the house…towards the nearest police station…

And all the while she was sobbing three words over and over;

"Oh-My-God…Oh-My-God…Oh-My-God…"

A/N Well…this just came to me one day when I was at work. I scribbled it down on the back of till receipts between customers. LOL. But anyway I hope you like it and hopefully the next bit will come to me soon…


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